


Mixing Messages

by FireEye



Category: Saints Row
Genre: F/M, Sharing a Bed, trope bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 15:51:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3073529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireEye/pseuds/FireEye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SR1.  Figuring out sleeping arrangements.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mixing Messages

The apartment was somewhat cramped, made more so by clutter that seemed to sprawl from certain corners. It certainly wasn’t the condemned in the alley wall that they’d lived in so many years ago, and it was a far cry from Kingdom Come’s upper crust. Even so, it had a familiar ambiance that – even after so many years – felt like it was welcoming her home. Not helped, perhaps, by how Johnny didn’t so much as give her a tour of the place, than jab his thumb towards the bedroom door.

“You can have the bed,” he was saying, “I’m just fine on the couch until we can work out something different.”

Aisha pulled her gaze away from scrutinizing the apartment, and looked up at him.

“Aren’t you forgetting something.”

Johnny blinked at her. He glanced at her luggage, then at the door, then at the bedroom door, then at the couch in question... and the dawning realization lit up behind his eyes.

“Oh, fuck,” he scratched at his neck, and the twitch rolled down his shoulders. Aisha thought he’d figured out his honest mistake, except he jumped to the wrong conclusion entirely, “ _Shanice_.”

Before she could correct him, he was talking again.

“Alright. She can take the couch, or maybe she can have the bed, and you can take the couch, and either which way, I can find a hotel – you know, since I’m not really-...”

He didn’t catch on to her waving her hands to make him stop. He didn’t catch on at all until she placed pressed one against his arm, and only then did he trail off, giving her his rapt attention. Aisha smiled.

“Johnny,” she assured him, “I’m more than okay with sharing the bed.”

His mouth twisted as he parsed that. “Wouldn’t that be kind of weird?”

Aisha buried her face in her hands, shaking her head. Maybe he was fucking with her, it wasn’t always easy to tell. But before she could figure it out for herself, he had started talking again, sounding more than genuine.

“I mean, I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to make it sound... look, you know, it’s just that you...”

She stopped him again, this time pressing both of her hands to his arm. He stared down at her, completely oblivious, and she sighed. Sliding her hands upward until she could reach past his shoulders, she traced the pattern that sprawled across his neck with the tips of her fingers as she pulled him down, and herself up onto her toes. She pressed a gentle kiss to his mouth, and could feel the muscles under her hands flickered as he fought every impulse in order to keep still.

A moment later, she dropped down flat on her feet. Johnny cleared his throat, the dopey-ass smile that she loved since she met him creeping in for the first time since he’d come around the Church to pick her up earlier that evening.

“Oh,” he said. “See, I didn’t get that part.”

**Author's Note:**

> Short idea from an old prompt where I went with something else, picking up dust, Trope Bingo gave it new life. (Even if it was written in a hurry.)


End file.
